


I'm sorry, love, for all of the damage done.

by MiserableLie95



Category: Morrissey (Musician), The Smiths
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 05:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10847700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiserableLie95/pseuds/MiserableLie95





	I'm sorry, love, for all of the damage done.

He could hear them through the wall. Johnny’s harsh breathing and groaning, Angie’s soaring moans and repeated utterances of his blessed name. He could hear the bed rattling underneath them, and knew that there was much more going on out of earshot; Johnny’s voice in her ear, assuring her of how much he wanted her, how badly he needed her, how terribly in love they were. 

Morrissey heard the same words ringing in his ears, sacred vignettes from memory replaying before he could stop them. Had it only been a week since they had been together last? He could still feel Johnny’s lips at his ear, whispering the litany of things he was going to do to him. And then, the over-worked fingers moving along his body, his lips following, the feeling of their bodies together.

Morrissey felt himself blushing, embarrassed for replaying one of the many instances in which he and Johnny got together over the years like some obsessive teenager after their first sexual experience. He couldn’t help himself. He listened to what was going on in the other room like the sadistic bastard he was, yearning to be in Angie’s place, yet knowing he never could. He was still listening, concentrating on the sounds Johnny was making and feeling vaguely turned on as a result- when he heard a knock at his door, which startled him enough to have him jumping up out of his bed. He smoothed his hand over his hair and tugged at his t-shirt, feeling foolish in his pajamas in the middle of the day. 

Andy was leaning against the doorframe when Morrissey cautiously opened it, reluctantly allowing the bassist into his room. 

“Ah, you can hear it too," Andy remarked embarrassedly after an especially loud moan from Angie, ducking his head to avoid Morrissey’s gaze. 

Morrissey looked at him, unable to say anything. Andy was booked in the room on the other side of Johnny’s. It was a surprisingly tactful move for Andy to check in on Morrissey, knowing he was on the opposite side of Johnny’s room. They were both very close to Johnny, and Andy had played reluctant mediator between them more often than not in recent months.

“What are you doing tonight?” Andy asked, leaning against the doorframe as Morrissey shuffled some notes on the desk. 

“I think I’ll just stay in and read," Morrissey said softly. 

“You should come out with me and the crew, we’ll find some quiet pub..." Andy tried, but trailed off as Morrissey was already shaking his head. “Moz, you know he’s just going to stay in there all night." Andy said quietly. 

He looked at a spot above Morrissey’s head as they both heard Johnny saying something in a low voice and then laughing loudly in the other room. He couldn't bear seeing the singer like this, always dangling out of Johnny's reach as the guitarist got the best of both worlds; married to a beautiful woman at home, then fucking around with Morrissey on tour. The hurt look around Morrissey's mouth and his furrowed eyebrows were answer enough to what he was feeling. The tension was unbelievable, and Andy was kicking himself for saying anything. But he had to try. The very intimate and conflicting affair between the singer and guitarist wasn’t as secret as Morrissey thought it was, and Andy was just trying to salvage the band any way he could. 

“I’m really not feeling well, Andy. I couldn’t go out," Morrissey finally answered. His tone was flat, his mind obviously in the room next door, and his gaze pointedly looking away from Andy.

Andy sighed, digging into the pockets of his jeans. “Do you want a Klonopin?” he asked, already knowing what the answer would be. 

Morrissey nodded gratefully and Andy put two on his bedside table, explaining that he should take only one at a time, the other was for if he woke up during the night. He left quietly afterwards and Morrissey felt touched by the thoughtfulness of the bassist, who was simply pacifying him on behalf of Johnny. Morrissey filled his empty teacup with water and swallowed the pill before climbing back into bed, pulling the sheets around himself as he listened to Angie’s moans of encouragement in the next room. He couldn’t shake the thoughts of envy, and found himself drifting to sleep as he remembered his own moments with Johnny. 

Johnny put the key on the end table and leaned over Morrissey’s sleeping figure, glancing warily at the clock. It was only 5pm. He took off his shirt and his jeans and got into bed slowly, laying next to the singer and slipping his arms around him gently so as to not wake him. Morrissey stirred slightly, not bothering to open his eyes. He felt a warm presence next to him and smelled cigarettes and vodka, and of course, it was Johnny. How he had gotten into the room or why he was there was beyond discussion. 

“Johnny," he said sleepily. His tongue felt thick with sleep. Or was that the pills? 

“Why are you sleeping so early?” Johnny asked, already not wanting to hear the true answer. 

He pulled Morrissey closer and tucked the older man’s body against his, holder him tighter as though that could protect him from the implications of his question. His body was cold despite being wrapped up in the sheets, so Johnny ran his hands along his back gently, trying to warm him up. 

“Why do you smell like…you’re coming back from the bar so early?” Morrissey asked slowly, trying to enunciate all his words correctly. 

Johnny laughed, looking up at the singer with his eyebrows raised. “Yeah, I had a couple drinks,” Johnny answered. He didn’t want to think about the empty glasses he and Angie had left on all the surfaces in their hotel room since they’d checked in. It was never a good sign.

Morrissey mumbled something unintelligible, his long arms winding around Johnny’s body comfortably. Johnny sank into his touch, pressing a kiss against his bare chest. “Oh, I needed to see you," Johnny breathed against the other man’s skin, closing his eyes in contentment. 

Morrissey finally opened his eyes, looking down at Johnny sadly. “Those words are meant for the person in the room next door, I think." 

“Morrissey…I can’t talk about that with you," Johnny said in a whisper, his voice slightly choked by emotion and the detached tone of voice Morrissey had used with him. “I don’t say no to you often, but I have to draw the line, alright?” He tried to lower his pulse away from the idea of confrontation. 

“I could hear you two, you know? Andy even felt badly for me and invited me out," Morrissey explained, his voice losing the sleepy tone in his quietly controlled misery. Johnny was hoping the bassist had remembered the prescription pills. It was necessary to subdue the singer to avoid such conflicts. “I still love to hear you…Even though I’d much prefer being the person you’re making those sounds with," Morrissey remarked sadly, closing his eyes again. His head felt empty, fuzzy. He was surprised he could even talk so much. 

“I was thinking about you," Johnny said. He craned his neck to kiss Morrissey’s cheek. 

Morrissey laughed, but it got caught in his throat. He turned his face to accept the guitarist’s kiss instead. He couldn’t tell what was true and what wasn’t anymore, so he just kept talking. “It was so embarrassing, Andy coming in like that. I was a couple moments away from putting my hand into my trousers," Morrissey said, moving closer to Johnny. He felt warm in Johnny’s arms and nestled his head on top of Johnny’s. 

“I didn’t know I turned you on that much," Johnny said humbly.

“Oh, constantly. Just thinking, remembering. Hearing you and being with you is another level. I can’t help it. Even now," Morrissey shook his head hopelessly, his eyes closed. His head was spinning and he felt so tired, but his heart was racing and hormones flooded through him because of the very presence of the man next to him. 

“Even now?” Johnny repeated slyly

“Mentally exhausted, but the body still reacts," Morrissey murmured. 

Johnny moved his hand between their bodies, his fingers curling around Morrissey’s cock, and it was true, he was half-hard. Morrissey moaned in affirmation, spreading his legs apart to give Johnny better access. Johnny rubbed his hand along the singer’s cock, sucking on his neck eagerly. 

“Ahh, don’t, baby," Morrissey groaned, but he spread his thighs at Johnny’s touch.

Johnny pushed the singer over so he’d lie on his back and straddled the older man, his head spinning slightly. “Don’t what?” Johnny asked innocently, moving his hands along Morrissey’s body. He leaned in and kissed Morrissey’s chest, moving his tongue in circles around his nipples. Morrissey sighed and felt himself hardening further. Johnny looked up at him as he kissed down the singer’s body, holding eye contact. Morrissey licked his lips, resigning himself as dark eyes looked up at him beneath the lashes, so ready to please. It felt like a jolt of electricity. Morrissey took a deep breath as Johnny slid off his drawstring trousers, breathing in sharply as Morrissey’s cock was revealed, already hard and waiting. 

“Oh, Moz," Johnny said softly, looking up at the singer again, who had shut his eyes, his face and chest flushed. He felt embarrassed for being so hard so quickly, remnants of arousal from listening to Johnny and Angie. The guitarist let his calloused hands brush along Morrissey’s hips and sighed. He couldn't remember the last time they had slept together, but Morrissey had a bad habit of neglecting his own pleasure when the two of them couldn't get a chance to be alone together.Johny moved down the bed and took Morrissey’s cock into his mouth, running his tongue along the underside, letting his spit gather as he sucked on the tip.

Morrissey gasped, his hands moving to grip the sheets. “Ah, Johnny," Morrissey moaned, tangling his hands in the sheets. 

Johnny took him deeper, moving his hands with his mouth, listening to Morrissey’s soft moans and whines. He’d always liked this part, having the singer come undone underneath him. Morrissey’s breath caught in his throat, as what felt like all of the sensation in his body went directly to his cock. Johnny’s occasional moans sent a jolt through him, and he trembled underneath the attention, the love, the forbidden act of lust. 

“Oh, god," Morrissey gasped. “Everything feels so good," he said weakly, watching his partner in awe. 

Johnny slowed, allowing Morrissey to enjoy it, giving him all the time he needed. Johnny sat up, using his hand to stroke him, watching the way Morrissey reacted to the change in pressure with a smile. Johnny leaned in and kissed his partner slowly, relishing the moan Morrissey left against his mouth, the feeling of his teeth along his bottom lip. The pills must’ve kicked in by now, Johnny thought to himself. 

“You beautiful, beautiful boy," Johnny remarked, running his hands along Morrissey’s pale body. He pushed aside the white sheets and moved his mouth down Morrissey’s body again, running his tongue over his balls, sucking gently. Morrissey squirmed underneath him, laughing, in a haze. When Johnny looked up at him again he was grinning, all resentments from earlier in the day forgotten. 

Johnny maintained the eye contact as he pursed his lips and pressed a kiss against the tip of the singers cock, licking the precum off slowly, then moving his tongue along his cock. He built up a rhythm, speeding up and changing technique, bringing Morrissey close to the edge more than once before slowing down again. 

“Jesus Christ," Morrissey groaned, his arm covering his face after Johnny had him on the brink of orgasm, his breathing ragged and unable to stop from moaning loudly, for the third time. 

“Do you wanna finish?” Johnny asked innocently. 

“Have I not made it obvious enough?” Morrissey ran slender fingers along his body, reaching down to give himself the last couple of strokes needed to finish. Johnny laughed, grabbing Morrissey’s hand and holding it in his own.

“I’ll finish you off in a minute," Johnny assured him, kissing the singer softly.

Morrissey kissed back reluctantly, groaning in appreciation as he felt Johnny’s body covering his own. He sat up and pulled Johnny with him, so the guitarist straddled him, their bodies pressed together tightly. “This would do well too," Morrissey muttered. He started rocking his hips against Johnny to get the younger man to grind against him. 

"‘Fraid not, Mozzer," Johnny shook his head. “Let me do what I want and you’ll get what you want."

Morrissey sighed, sinking back against the pillows again. “You're making me lightheaded," he complained. 

"Yes, that's me," Johnny laughed. He kissed him again then used his hand to stroke his partner lightly, building him up again. When Johnny leaned back in to suck him off, he steadied his hand on Morrissey’s hip and used his mouth only as he continued, Morrissey gasping underneath him as Johnny took him as deep as he could. 

“Oooohhh," Morrissey groaned, feeling his orgasm approaching again. Johnny moved his hand up Morrissey’s stomach, tasting the salty precum that signaled Morrissey’s readiness to cum. He slowed slightly, looking up at Morrissey teasingly. 

“Oh, god-“ Morrissey groaned again, shaking underneath the guitarist’s grasp. He reached for Johnny’s hand, his chest heaving as he got ready to cum. He moaned between gasps, squeezing Johnny’s hand as he felt himself slipping past the point of no return. He moaned Johnny’s name as he came, his breath coming in sharply as he groaned and gasped. 

He was still trying to catch his breath, collapsed against the sheets, when Johnny came back over after getting up and filling the teacup Morrissey had next to the bed with more water. He handed it to Morrissey, who managed to raise his head and take a sip, then placed it back on the table. Everything felt hazy as he looked at Johnny, who sat on the edge of the bed, watching him carefully. 

“Thank you for that. It was sorely needed," Morrissey said lazily, tilting his head back against the pillows. 

Johnny smiled, putting his hand on the side of Morrissey’s face as he kissed him on the forehead. “I love you." Johnny told him. “I’m sorry that this is the way that things are, but I do love you." 

Morrissey smiled, his eyes shining. He was still flushed from his orgasm and his voice was still slightly breathless as he stretched out underneath the sheets, closing his eyes. “And I love you, as you surely you know." 

“I do know," Johnny admitted. He grinned shamelessly. ”I couldn’t be more pleased about it, really." 

Morrissey smiled back, tilting his head up for a kiss. Johnny leaned back in and pressed his lips against the singers’ gently before he got back into bed with him. “I couldn’t ask for anything more than this, Johnny. It’s okay," Morrissey whispered some time later, against Johnny’s hair. 

Johnny hummed in agreement, pretending to be half-asleep. When he snuck out of the bed forty-five minutes later, he tried not to think about the singer waking up in an empty room again.


End file.
